Cycle
The girl looks out at rain, straining to hearthe pitter patter as it hits the window sill,anything to quit thecries of the bitter battleas father batters motherfor a mere tea spill ora word deemed illShe forgets and it doesn't matter,because mother saysin topsy turvy worldsthis is just background scoreyou mute, and bruises arewhere you blend make-up moreSo the girl looks out atbirds, escaping rainy blows,and wonders whetherbaby birds fly lower andcower in...
